Here is the first chapter...
Present-Day
London, England
CHAPTER ONE
Visiting England
was better than death.
Brenna Keelin
stared out the window of her English tour bus at an early morning fog. The mist-swathed
countryside lay in a gray blanket that shrouded any view of the bright emerald
fields and crisp white sheep she’d hoped to see.
Just when Brenna
thought the gray view and the stale bus air might undo her well-organized to
plans to have a desperately-needed vacation, the bus finally drove past a sign
for Cambridge, the second stop on their two week tour of England.
The fog cleared
just enough to reveal an inn that could have been featured on a British
postcard, with its rose-tangled doorways and row upon row of centuries old
stacked-stone fencing protecting the perimeter.
“Come on,
Sleeping Beauty.” Brenna elbowed her sister Janelle, who dozed against the
padded headrest, her mouth gaping open. “We're here.”
Janelle slicked
on some lip-gloss, then followed Brenna out of the bus. Once they had loaded
themselves down with suitcases and bags, mostly Janelle's, Brenna lead the way
through the chilly air toward the pension, fought with an unforgiving revolving
door, and finally stumbled into a quaint lobby.
Brenna released
handles and shrugged straps until the luggage clunked to the floor. She
stretched to ease the ache in her shoulders. Looking around the reception room
at all the plates and platters hanging on the walls, she nodded at the décor.
Very British. “Like the place?” She looked for her sister.
Janelle was
chatting up their tour guide, Jacob.
Two hotel staff
we`re watching her from behind the desk, as Janelle was a blonde hair,
blue-eyed torpedo as their father used to call her. Any man in a ten-mile
radius would be under her allure.
“Well, I love
it,” Brenna said to no one in particular. She stepped toward a blue plate that
caught her eye. The plate showed a faded painting of a woman in a wedding
dress. An ache lodged in her chest. Her idle wedding dress still hung in her
closet. She wrapped herself with one arm, not sure this trip was such a good
idea. But it was better than wishing to be dead.
“We are in
England.” Janelle gave Brenna a hearty side hug. “Aren’t you happy now?”
“Yes,” Brenna pasted
on a smile. “Now all I need is a cup of tea.” She nodded at the hotel employee
who handed her a room key. “Thank you.”
“Oh Bren—you
sound just like an English woman,” Janelle whispered as they passed their
handsome leader on the way to their room. “What I need is a British boyfriend.
What do you think of Jacob our tour guide?”
“First, he’s
Austrian, oddly muscular, and a little like a football player who has taken a
few too many hits,” Brenna said as she unlocked the door and collapsed onto the
bed. “You need to find someone smart and reliable like Dad.
“You are
hopeless...lighten up.” Janelle fluffed her white-blonde hair in the mirror.
“And with your good looks, it wouldn’t do you any harm to start paying
attention to men again.”
“My good looks?
Oh please, don’t do that, I’ll humor my older sister thing. We all know who got
the beauty in the family.” Brenna playfully pulled on her sister’s hair. She
then leaned over and pulled out a stack of postcards she’d bought at the
airport, trying to think of whom to send them to.
“Bren, what’s
happened to you? You were the most sought after event planner in Virginia.
People booked you a year in advance.” Janelle flounced onto the bed. “Tell me
again why you quit.”
Brenna twirled a
lock of her hair around and around as was her habit whenever she felt
overwhelmed. “You know.” She had to admit, she did miss the excitement of her
previous job. “That last wedding I did really got to me. All those happy
people...I couldn’t stand there and smile, pretending nothing was wrong—”
A gentle knock
on their door distracted them.
Janelle bounded
up to answer it.
“Hello,” greeted
their brawny Austrian tour guide. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but a few of us
are going out to a pub. Want to come?”
“Sure thing.”
Janelle grabbed her jacket. “You want to go?”
“No, thanks.”
Brenna let go of her hair and pretended to get something from her suitcase.
“I‘m pretty tired.”
Jacob’s grin
dropped. “We won’t be out late.”
“I think I’ll
turn in early. I want to unpack, get organized.” She held up a book on English
history and fixed a smile in place. “But you all have fun—ah, Janelle, don’t
stay out too late.”
Janelle made a
face. “Brenna is never up passed ten. She’s an attached lady you know—I mean,
she used to be—” Janelle cast an, I’m sorry, look toward her sister. “Well, I
guess we’d better go.” Almost out the door, Janelle ran back into the room and
planted a kiss on her sister’s forehead. “Are you gonna be okay?” she asked.
But before
Brenna could answer, her sister skipped out the door.
Brenna sat on
the edge of the bed as her anxiety flowed through her veins like a champagne
fountain. This was better than suicide.
***
The next day,
the city of Cambridge worked its charm on Brenna with its outdoor markets and
quaint shops. But the most fascinating excursion took place on their second day
in the enchanting town, a ride in the long, narrow boats that glided on the Cam
River behind the colleges of Cambridge. Brenna felt her melancholy trailing
away as the view of the ancient bricked buildings along the water brought an
unbelievable sense of being back in time. It was as if one could just lean over
and touch history.
She held her
face up to a peek of sunshine, fighting to get through the gathering clouds. A
smile touched her lips as the short-lived warmth filled her body—until she
remembered the boat accident. The sail-boat that was discovered drifting off
the Virginia coast with no one aboard. The body of her fiancé that was never
found—
The boat rocked
as Jacob moved from his center seat and sat down next to her, his tight black
t-shirt bulging with muscles. “Are you looking forward to the rest of the
tour?”
“I’ve always
wanted to come to England.” She dipped her fingers in the cool water and a
shiver went up her spine.
Jacob flexed his
muscles and stretched his arm along Brenna’s back.
The smell of his
musky cologne filled her nose.
“Isn’t this trip
supposed to help you get over your loss?”
Brenna shook her
head. Janelle. Her gaze drifted to the college students lounging by the
river. The grassy slope that overlooked the water provided a quiet place for
them to read, talk, study. With Stephen gone, she had nowhere to feel safe. “I
think so. I mean yes, of course. I’ll be ready to get back to work as soon as
we’re home.”
“If you don’t
mind my asking…what happened?”
“My fiancé died
in a boating accident three months ago.” She nodded. It felt good to put the
horror of it all into one orderly sentence.
“I’m so sorry.
Do you think you’ll ever want to date again?” His arm tightened around her.
“I don’t know
when I’ll be ready for that.” She would never allow herself to be that
vulnerable again. She flitted her gaze away from Jacob’s steely blue eyes.
“Where did Janelle’s boat go? That girl, I turn my back for a second—”
“If you ever
want a private tour of Vienna,” he handed her his card. “I’d be very happy to
oblige.”
She read, Heit
World Tours: Jacob Heit-Tour Organizer and Guide.
“We have offices
in London, York, and Vienna. If you ever need anything, or if you are ever back
in England, call me.” Jacob’s voice sounded husky.
“I’ll remember
that.” She sat up straighter, distancing herself from his touch as she filed
his card in a card organizer in her purse. “So, where are we off to next?”
“The medieval
city of Yorkshire. One of my favorite places to visit.” Jacob raised his brows
and smiled mischievously.
“Oh really? So
what’s the surprise?”
He shook his
head. “No, no, it’s just that the settlement has retained so much of its
medieval structure, it’s like walking back in time. Very mysterious, that
village.”
“Really? In what
way?”
“You’ll see.”
His face was engulfed in an admiring grin, his eyes twinkling. “It used to be a
city of marshes before it was settled, so people often went missing.” He nudged
her shoulder. “It would be a good idea for you to stay close to me.”
Brenna widened
her gaze. “Okay, thanks for the warning.”
“Don’t worry, I
haven’t lost a client yet.”
***
Early in the
morning, the tour bus headed toward the city of York and its famous cathedral,
the York Minster. As Brenna and Janelle made their way up a crumbly set of
stone stairs and entered the Great West Door, a cool swath of air swept over
Brenna’s neck, sending a chill down her spine. The cold seemed to leach off the
ancient walls and seep into her bones.
Janelle was
decked out in a white fur vest, while Brenna went with sweats and jeans. She
was very proud of how organized her clothing selection was for the trip.
Sturdy, practical, multi-functional. No wonder she always felt like the
step-sister to Cinderella? She tucked her long hair behind her ears. After
being Janelle’s sister for eighteen years, you’d think she would be used to
being the wallflower by now. She rubbed at the chill in her arms as she
followed the tour group farther into the cathedral.
Brenna’s head
almost involuntarily swung upward toward the breath-taking vaulted ceiling. But
as she stepped forward, each of her steps thudded loudly. She cringed and
looked around at the fifteen or so other tour members in her group, but no one
else seemed to notice the sound.
“The York
Minster, England’s largest church, was constructed beginning in 1220 and was
completed in 1472...” Jacob motioned their group forward as he began his
lecture.
Half an hour
into the tour, Brenna drifted from her sister’s side, to admire the beautiful
stained-glass windows. A sense of holiness filled the air around her. Perhaps,
it was the vaulted ceiling, or the other-worldly quietness that lulled one into
a sense of peace. The vast size of the cathedral made her feel small, as if
there was a world beyond what she could see. Hope rose in her heart. Maybe
there could be a new start for her just around the bend.
As she walked
farther down, well beyond her travel companions, she rounded the corner to the
middle section of the Minster. She stepped up into a semi-circle shaped alcove
that overlooked the rear of the church. Right in her line of vision was a
small, wooden door.
With a glance
over her shoulder, she stepped over and gave the aged door a gentle tug. Poking
her head in, and peering up to the left, the smell of dank, musty drafts filled
her senses. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw a set of narrow,
wooden stairs. Dust and glistening particles hung in the air, illuminated by a
shaft of light coming down from the top where there was an opening.
Brenna continued
to study the stairway, as if, for a brief second, she could hear the tread of
shoes and the rustle of skirts climbing up the wooden corridor. She had the
sense of touching time, if one could do such a thing.
She glanced
behind her to find only a few tourists taking pictures in the distance, none of
whom were paying any attention to her. Adjusting her purse straps farther up on
her shoulder, she licked her lower lip. A compelling longing to climb the
stairs overcame her normal reserve and fear of doing the wrong thing. She
pressed forward. The door closed behind her with a thud like the final gong of
a clock. The passage was a tight fit, but she could just make it through. The
sense of countless days gone by seemed engraved into the space. If only these
walls could talk…
Each wooden step
creaked and protested her unfamiliar weight as glistening particles swirled
around her. She ran her hands along the roughhewn walls. The same walls that
people from centuries ago had touched. The enclosed area made her heart race as
the sound of her careful tread echoed around her. An intoxicating sense of
destiny beckoned her forward. What was at the top of these stairs?
She wiped the
moisture from her forehead. Further and further she continued. Something
important waited for her, some discovery. Curiosity propelled her up the
cramped steps to what? A secret passage way? A hidden room? She cast a look
behind her at the steps that disappeared into the darkness. She swallowed. What
was she doing?
Once she reached
the top, she stepped out onto a choir loft that overlooked the back of the
church. Brushing some of the dust and smudges from her jeans and dark gray
sweatshirt, she imagined herself singing in the church. But as she looked over
the rear of the Minister, she frowned. Where had all the tourists gone?
Everyone had vanished, except for one cleaning woman, sweeping the floor
between rows of wooden pews. The scrape of a straw broom was all that could be
heard.
Brenna craned
her neck, leaning over the balcony to get a better view of the front of the
church, trying to see her sister, Jacob, or any of the tour group. The
cathedral looked vacant and deathly quiet except for a few people dressed in
some sort of Victorian costumes coming down the walkway. Were they getting
ready to put on a play?
